


Whatever it Takes

by bigsadenergy



Series: Sinners and Saints [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsadenergy/pseuds/bigsadenergy
Summary: Courier Six has been agonizing over Benny's escape. She had her chance and she lost it, and now she has to track him down again somehow. The answer to her troubles comes in an unexpected form, and it comes at a steep price. Is her revenge worth the life and safety of one of her new companions?
Relationships: Craig Boone/Courier (Fallout), Craig Boone/Female Courier, Craig Boone/Original Character
Series: Sinners and Saints [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210109
Kudos: 11





	Whatever it Takes

_ Falling too fast to prepare for this _

_ Tripping in the world could be dangerous _

_ Everybody circling, it's vulturous _

_ Negative, nepotist _

_ Everybody waiting for the fall of man _

_ Everybody praying for the end of times _

_ Everybody hoping they could be the one _

_ I was born to run, I was born for this _

_ Whip, whip _

_ Run me like a racehorse _

_ Pull me like a ripcord _

_ Break me down and build me up _

_ I wanna be the slip, slip _

_ Word upon your lip, lip _

_ Letter that you rip, rip _

_ Break me down and build me up _

_ Whatever it takes _

_ 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins _

_ I do whatever it takes _

_ 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains _

_ Whatever it takes _

_ Yeah, take me to the top I'm ready for _

_ Whatever it takes _

_ 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins _

_ I do what it takes _

_ -Whatever it Take, Imagine Dragons _

At first, Six doesn’t recognize the man who stops her. 

She’s on her way to the Lucky 38. She’s drunk. Not drunk enough that she can’t walk or defend herself if someone tried to shiv her in a Freeside alley as she stumbles home from the Atomic Wrangler, but drunk enough that the world is a bit floaty and when the man appears in front of her, she half expects it to be Boone or Arcade ready to tell her off for disappearing for a while and returning drunk. 

It’s just her luck that her only two consistent friends in this world right now are both such mother hens. 

By her own, entirely unbiased, assessment, she is fit for duty. A bullet to the abdomen when she tried to confront Benny was only a minor setback. 

Boone is just grumpy, paranoid, and a bit of a worry-wart, though he tries to hide it. If it were just Six and Boone, they’d be back on the road already. 

But since she picked up Arcade, back at the Old Mormon Fort in the days after the injury, the good doctor has insisted she take it slow. 

Arcade means well. She likes him well enough. She thinks Boone gets annoyed at how much the other man talks. Boone is quiet and Six is generally not much of a talker, not unless she has to be. Before Arcade, Boone and Six would go hours at a time without saying a single word.

But the man in front of her, though vaguely familiar, is neither Arcade nor Boone. He looks just like an average gambler on the Strip. Six examines his face, trying to figure out where she’s met him before. There’s something in his eyes she doesn’t like, a sly, predatory gleam. She’s feet away from the Lucky 38’s front steps; all she’d have to do is run to them if he suddenly decides she’s prey.

“The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you,” comes the smooth drawl of his voice. All at once, Six realizes where she’s met him before. “He appreciates your service, and bestows upon you the exceptional gift of his Mark.”

Vulpes Inculta. He was at Nipton. He burnt Nipton to the ground. Six should’ve killed him then and there, but she hadn’t stood a chance, not against him and all his reinforcements. 

Maybe she should kill him right here, right now. She’s got her revolver and the knife on her thigh. Putting a bullet between his eyes would be satisfying. So would lodging her knife in his throat.

But, here, in the open, she can do neither. It is somewhat frowned upon to attack random people on the Strip.

Vulpes grabs her hand before she can do anything, though, and she resists the urge to pull away and throw him to the ground. He presses something against her palm and closes her hand around it before releasing her again. 

“My Lord requires your presence at his camp, at Fortification Hill. His Mark will guarantee your safe-conduct through our lands.” His voice is sneering. She desperately wants to break his nose. “Any crimes you may have perpetrated against the Legion are hereby forgiven. Caesar will not extend this mercy a second time.”

The threat in those words is obvious. The legion knows her, sees her. Obviously, they have eyes everywhere.

Six doesn’t even want to hear him out. There’s no reason for her to give Vulpes the time of day. She backs up, fist clenched around whatever he handed her. 

“Incidentally, it will interest you to know that the man you seek has fled the Strip, and is likely making haste for Caesar's camp as we speak.”

Six’s eyes widen before she can rein herself in.  _ Benny! _ Since he sicked his henchmen on her and fled the Strip a week ago, Six hasn’t heard a single thing that could’ve given her some idea of where he’d gone. Even if Benny didn’t still have the platinum chip, she’d want to follow him. That slick asshole really thought he could try to kill her  _ twice _ and get away with it. He has another thing coming.

But this? this has to be a trap. How does Vulpes Inculta know about Benny and her vendetta? And why on earth would Caesar suddenly develop an interest in her? If it’s true, and she’s skeptical of that, it must have something to do with the chip. God, what did she get herself caught up in?

“Why does Caesar want to see me?” She narrows her eyes.

Vulpes laughs. “Go to him, and you will understand.”

Well, he has piqued her curiosity, even if she doesn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. “ If this is a trap, I'm going to take a lot of you with me.”

There’s a wicked glimmer in his eye. “The mighty Caesar has bestowed upon you his Mark and guaranteed safe-conduct. If he wanted you dead, you would be dead already.” He watches her for a moment, a glitter of cruel amusement in his eyes. She does feel like prey. She feels small and useless and she hates it. She wants to smash his face in for it. “Seek Caesar by way of Cottonwood Cove, south of Nelson. The Cursor Lucullus will be waiting.”

And then he just walks away. Walks away, leaving her standing alone on the Strip in the early morning with no more information to make any of this easier to understand.

He’s long since out of sight when Six finally convinces her legs to carry her back to the Lucky 38.

The casino floor, as usual, is empty save for a few Securitrons. 

She hates the Lucky 38. It’s an empty shell, a ghost of the world before the bombs fell. Cash and empty bottles and cups litter the available surfaces, as if someone took a photograph, but somehow left all the people out. Like someone pressed pause on life here, and the people that once occupied this place just faded away. Every dim corner of the place is haunting in its own way.

The presidential suite has no windows. Most rooms here don’t have windows. In fact, the only ones she’s found are the big ones in the cocktail lounge and the penthouse. She’d be willing to bet that one could lose days to this place and not even know it. With only the dim lights and the dust in the air to mark time, one could lose days here. 

Most nights, in the week they’ve been here, she finds herself drinking in the cocktail lounge until she falls asleep or passes out. At least then, she can see the damn sky. The master bedroom in the presidential suite feels claustrophobic and also far too large at the same time. 

It’s a gilded cage. The only reason she’s allowed the  _ privilege _ of remaining here is because Mr. House wants to keep an eye on her. She’s another one of his pawns and he wants to keep her close. She doesn’t relish the thought. This place, as fancy as it is, is a barely-disguised prison.

Boone is sitting on the couch in the hallway when she returns. He’s cleaning his rifle. He must’ve been up waiting for her to return, readying himself to go look for her if she didn’t come back in time. At this hour, Arcade is probably snoring in his room.

When she steps out of the elevator, Boone watches her carefully. He says nothing. His eyes aren’t judging or accusatory, not exactly. But there’s something in them that’s suspicious. Something somewhat disapproving in the way he looks at her. Or maybe it’s just worrying. He’s always worrying about every little detail of things. He’d never admit that, though.

“Hey,” she says finally. “Still up?”

“Hey,” he responds. “Yeah.”

“Sorry if I kept you up.”

“Wasn’t you,” he says. “Just can’t sleep.”

She doesn’t ask why. If she does, he wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t press her about her own sleepless nights. She just nods.

“Have fun?” He asks, more out of politeness than any real interest.

She shrugs. She realizes she’s still holding whatever Vulpes Inculta gave her and she opens her hand to look at it. It’s some kind of pendant on a chord. 

“What’s that?” Boone asks.

For a moment, Six debates whether or not she should tell him about the encounter she just had. Boone’s hate for Legion outways any logic he has. If he’d been with her, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill the man in full view of everyone. But she doesn’t want to lie or hide anything from anyone, especially him. That could give the wrong impression if he ever found out.

“I-” she begins, then pauses, rephrasing things in her head. “I think I may have a lead on Benny.”

Boone raises an eyebrow. 

“But, the risk is high,” she continues.

He just shrugs as if to say  _ When isn’t it? _

Six sighs, and before she can think better of it, she tells Boone the whole story. He listens, surprisingly calmly, although she notices when his fists clench around nothing. When she finishes, he nods.

“So, when are we leaving?” He asks.

She squints at him. “Boone, we can’t just launch a two-man attack on the Fort.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t,” He says.

And there it is, the catch. There’s a catch with everyone always. Apparently, unsurprisingly, Boone’s is a suicidal hate for Legion. That’s a whole can of worms that she’s not sure if she can or wants to open, at least, not right now.

She sighs. “We’ll talk about this later. I’m drunk and tried.”

Boones shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say.” His lips are set in a hard line. She doubts he’s going to go to bed. 

“G’night.” She walks across the hall to the master bedroom.

Even in the dim, smoky light, the red of the walls and floors hurts her eyes.

“Night,” Boone grunts.


End file.
